


NOT ENTIRELY ALONE

by Jaakkola



Series: Young Men Dead [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Necromancy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Secret Identity, Secrets, Swordfighting, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Stormwind was destroyed, laid to waste at the hand of it's own king, seemingly having gone mad.Tonight, Anduin is teaching someone what freedom tastes like.
Relationships: Darion Mograine & Anduin Wrynn, Darion Mograine/Anduin Wrynn, Mathias Shaw & Anduin Wrynn
Series: Young Men Dead [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189373
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	NOT ENTIRELY ALONE

Anduin felt eyes on him, which wasn’t necessarily odd in and of itself. Whenever he strayed a bit too far, Shaw’s eyes were watching him, a wound-up coil ready to spring at any moment. No, it wasn’t Shaw’s eyes on him that was giving him pause, it was the feeling of someone else’s eyes along with it.

“There you go,” Anduin said, feeling the warmth in his hands begin to fade. “That should fight off the worse of it.”

“Oh, I feel better already,” said the older woman. A disease had held her in a firm grip, but it was nothing Anduin couldn’t mend with help from the Light. “I’m sorry, I don’t got nothing to pay you—"

“Don’t worry about that,” Anduin assured. “I simply wanted to help you.”

“Such kindness, that’s unseen nowadays,” the woman continued. “I was beginning to think that all of it died back durin’ the Third War.”

Anduin gave her a tight smile. “Anyone has the capacity to be kind.”

She scoffed. “Maybe, but no one here ever is.”

Anduin glanced over to Shaw, who was leaning against the wall near the door out of the small chapel. In an attempt to give Anduin some space while they traveled, Shaw rarely entered one, and when he did, he always lingered by the door. Anduin knew the man never was fond of the spaces, but he never begrudged Anduin over it. Right now, he was just watching Anduin, a look of impatience across his face. He and Anduin spent many years arguing over Anduin’s want of helping people in whatever place they stopped at, but Anduin was firm and unrelenting, and it wasn’t like Shaw was going to be going somewhere without him, so Shaw dropped the argument after long enough.

The woman continued. “Honestly, I think the Third War ruined everything. I swear, Stormwind was the only city with people that actually knew the meaning of kindness.”

Anduin looked back at her, smile even tighter now. “Well, if you’re feeling better, I must be off.” He turned and nearly jumped when he realized that two men were stood behind him, armed, but not at the ready.

“And where would that be?” one of them asked. He had two handaxes at the waist, while his buddy had a greatsword against his back.

“Wherever the Light has need for me,” Anduin answered, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“You some sort of… traveling healer?”

“That’s right, and I’ve helped all I can here, unless you are in need of aid.” They both looked a bit weathered, but not too worse for wear. Anduin glanced to Shaw, who was taut like a pulled bowstring, waiting for the moment to escalate to the point where he had to step in. Anduin looked away before their eyes met.

“Pretty dangerous out there for a priest, you know.”

“A skilled priest is more than capable than handling themselves in Lordaeron,” Anduin said. He wasn’t a fool; they were trying to intimidate him, he just didn’t know why, exactly.

“Leave the kid alone,” the older woman said from behind Anduin. “He’s done more for this shit town than you lot ever did.”

“We’re just talkin’,” the one with the axes spat back.

Anduin shifted his hands within his long cloak, obscuring them from view. They quickly grew cold as they summoned magic that wasn’t as kind or forgiving as the Light. “Look, as much as I’d love to talk, I do have to run, I’m sure you can understand that.”

The man’s eyes glazed over briefly. “I… uh, yeah…” he said, much to his companion’s surprise.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Anduin said, remembering his manners. He turned away from them, heading to the door. Shaw caught his gaze as he approached, and the look across the man’s face said all he need to know. _Well, not the worst way to find out,_ Anduin supposed as he headed outside.

The night had been dastardly cold, which made the morning sun shining on Anduin’s face feel all the better. He wasn’t the only one to seem to think so, as across the dirt road that bisected the small village was a cat, lying on a windowsill and basking in its warmth. Anduin felt a pang of envy as he went to their horses, Shaw close on his heels.

As Shaw crossed beside him, he made a more pointed look towards Anduin, clearly expecting an explanation. Anduin soundly ignored it, which made Shaw scowl in his peripherals. “With haste, Shaw,” Anduin said as he untied his horse from the post. He’d like as much distance as possible between them and this village before those two pieced it together that Anduin had done something.

Shaw dropped the issue, for the moment. “And here I thought you were incapable of leaving a place in a timely manner.”

“Perhaps you’re rubbing off on me.”

Shaw scoffed with clear disbelief.

They took off, riding from the small gathering of homes northwestward. Anduin wasn’t entirely sure where they were heading towards this time, but they’ve traveled all over the northern Eastern Kingdoms that a specific stop was a welcome change to the wandering. While Anduin had found a sense of purpose in helping those who need healing, the constant momentum did little good for the soul. They ride for a good hour before they break, much needed for both them and the horses.

“How much farther to this place you won’t tell me about?” Anduin asked as he dismounted, trying to steer the conversation away from what was done at the chapel before Shaw could ask about it.

“A week, at least,” Shaw answered, digging through his saddlebags. “It’s… a friend of mine lives over there.”

“You have friends?” Anduin asked in jest. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you so much as speak to another person outside of threatening them.”

“I did. A lot can change in fifteen years, I suppose.”

Anduin frowned. Every conversation seemed to drift to fifteen years ago lately. “And you believe he’d still be there, after fifteen years?”

“He tends— _tended_ to bounce between two places. I suspect that unless things have changed drastically, then that will continue to hold true.”

Anduin knew that Shaw’s job before the Third War involved knowing many things and many people. Spymaster, he was called. He also knew that he hasn’t had contact with anyone he knew since then. Anduin had asked Shaw about why he hadn’t years ago. _Following orders,_ was all he said, and he wouldn’t budge on any further conversation on it. If Shaw was reaching out to someone, then maybe the end to their constant vagabondry was in sight.

Shaw stretched, and Anduin heard the pop of his joints from where he stood. “We’ll make a stop in Southshore before heading north.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Anduin said. He turned to face Shaw, another question on his mind, but it promptly died in his throat. Shaw stood alert, hands at the daggers at his waist. Shaw glanced to Anduin, clearly mouthing _stay with the horses_ as he took a step back the way they came, melding into the shadows of the forest. Anduin took a tight hold of the reins, readying for the horses to be startled.

Anduin realized, as he heard the rustling of bushes, that he was playing bait. He tucked himself into his cloak and watched as the horses became uneasy. Sure enough, appearing from the foliage, were the two thugs that had accosted Anduin in the church. “Well, well, look who’s here, the man with the handaxes asked.

“Please leave,” Anduin pleaded, keeping a tight hold on the reins. He’d play his part. “Please.”

“And why would we do that?”

 _Because your being stalked,_ Anduin thought. His hand warmed with the Light, ready to smite, but it was lost when Shaw appeared beside them. He managed to dig one dagger into the man with the broadsword before the man with the handaxes, seemingly prepared for Shaw, jammed one of his axes into Shaw’s side as he turned. It was enough to get the horses to panic, fighting against Anduin’s grip. With gritted teeth, Anduin was forced to turn his attention back to the horses.

An axe sung through the air near Anduin, embedding into Shaw’s horse. It shrieked, and Anduin reluctantly let go of the reins as it fell, a pang of pity striking his heart. Anduin looked over his shoulder, and with his newly freed hand, immediately summoned the Light to shield Shaw. He was on the ground, and Anduin’s action was enough to block the next strike against him from the thug with the axe. He looked up at Anduin. “I recommend you both leave, quickly,” Anduin said, voice firm and steady. “Or you’ll be made to regret it.”

“Oh really?” The man asked. The warmth that had gently enveloped Anduin’s hand quickly dissipated to a chilling cold as he called upon darker powers. “And what will you do, little priest?”

He noticed the darkness around Anduin’s hand far too late to do anything about it as his friend with the greatsword skewered him through. A sickening sound filled the air as the greatsword is sunk into the hilt, and Anduin immediately released his grasp on the man’s mind. It was tiring to dominate another, as well as downright uncomfortable. The other man’s glazed eyes shift into focus, and Anduin was forced to watch him realize what he had just done as he channeled the Light once again.

The man let out the start of a yelp before Shaw rose to his feet and sliced his throat, aborting the noise into an ugly, wet choking sound. Both the man and Shaw collapsed to the ground. Horse forgotten, Anduin immediately rushed to Shaw’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Shaw’s gaze held on the thug with the greatsword in him for a moment before he was snapped into the moment again. “Poisoned,” he gritted out, removing a hand from his side to reveal a nasty wound.

Anduin grimaced. “Curing poison is a bit outside my skillset, unfortunately.” He set himself to closing the wounds as best as he could, but Shaw pushed his hands aside. “You will let me heal you, you stubborn old man,” Anduin chided in a firm voice.

With an annoyed and pained grunt, Shaw relented. Anduin called upon the Light with everything he had, his hands warming to a nearly painful degree, as brightness lit both his hands and Shaw’s wounds. Shaw let out a quiet sigh of relief after a few moments, and Anduin let the Light fade as weariness settled in the back of his mind. “Alright, what do we have to do for poison?”

“Find a healer that can cleanse it,” Shaw mumbled. “Or an herbalist. I don’t have herbs on hand for an antitoxin.”

“We’re close to Southshore, right? There might be someone there that can help.” Anduin helped Shaw to his feet and walked him to a horse, helping him up on it. “Sorry about—”

“Don’t,” Shaw interrupted as Anduin pulled Shaw’s saddlebags. “Let’s get moving.”

It took a good minute to refasten the saddlebags to his horse, and then Anduin climbed up onto the horse behind Shaw, and they took off.

They ride for far longer than Anduin cares for, worry filling every ounce of him as he pushed the horse onward. Following the road, there was a somewhat large home off not far off the main path. There was a man out in front, sweeping the dirt from the front stop and keeping an eye on Anduin and Shaw as they approached. He had dark red hair that was pulled up into a bun as he worked, and a scraggy, half-kempt goatee across his face. He cocked an eyebrow when Anduin slowed the horse in front of him.

“My friend has been poisoned, where’s the nearest healer?” Anduin asked the man.

The man didn’t hesitate in approaching the horse, sensing the urgency. “My father can purge poisons,” he said, reaching a hand out to Shaw. Shaw took it with far more reluctance than a man that was slowly dying to poison should have, and Anduin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He really could be too stubborn for his own good sometimes.

The man led Shaw into the building while Anduin lashed the horse to a fence post, murmuring praises as he did so. The man was back out before Anduin was finished. “My father is with him now, he’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Anduin said. “My apologies that we are burdening you with this.”

“We’re here to help, don’t worry,” the man said. He was a half head shorter than Anduin, though he had enough strength to him that let Anduin know that his height posed no disadvantage for him. “Though my father’s brand of help is usually the more of the righteous type, he’s still capable of healing those who need it.”

“Oh, you’re paladins, of course!” Anduin said, surprised at how long it took him to realize that. Paladins, those who were often out in the thick of a battle, were commonly trained in cleansing all sorts of toxins. There was a question on the tip of Anduin’s tongue, but it was quickly lost as the front door opened once again.

An older man, nearly a spitting image of the one Anduin was just talking to, save for the fact he was taller and that he had thick and mostly gray beard at his chin, looked to Anduin. He had a large and commanding presence, one that seemed to radiate with Light. “Your companion will live, but he will need a few days to recover fully from it.”

It was common for aches or fatigue to set in after getting healed; the larger the injury, the more intense and lasting the aftereffects. Magic only hastened the body’s natural healing process, like sprinting to the finish line, and one needed to pause to catch their breath after sprinting. Anduin was no stranger to that, and neither was Shaw, for that matter. “You both are welcome to stay here until he’s fit to travel,” the older man said.

“Oh, thank you, but you don’t need to do that,” Anduin said.

“Nonsense,” the older man said. “You two would be far from the first to stay here until you were fit for travel. Besides, I think Darion here could stand to talk to someone other than me.” He reached over to ruffle his son’s—Darion’s—hair, much to his immediate dismay.

“Father,” he grumbled, swatting the hand away before setting himself to salvaging his hair the best he could. Anduin smiled at the interaction.

“But first thing’s first.” The older man extended a hand to Anduin. “I’m Alexandros Mograine.”

It was one of the Highlords of the Silver Hand, the Ashbringer himself. Anduin took the hand and gave it a firm shake as he struggled to remember his name. “Llane.”

* * *

“You don’t have to help me with chores,” Darion said the next morning.

“I want to.”

“You’re a guest here.”

“And if I don’t repay the kindness, Azeroth might explode.”

The comment was enough to pull a chuckle and a roll of the eyes from Darion. “If Azeroth could explode just from you not helping me feed the horses, then I don’t think she was long anyway.”

The early morning sun made the world seem hazy, the night’s mist still lingering in the air. The sky was still painted in soft pastels and the dew on the grass soaked their shoes as they crossed to the small stables. A few songbirds greeted the sun merrily, singing a tune that Anduin half-remembered. Shaw would absently point out what birds were making what chirps when they were up before dawn, and for the life of him, Anduin couldn’t commit them to memory. It was probably because he was half asleep every time, now that he thought about it.

As he pushed in the door to the stables, Darion asked, “so, how long have you been traveling?”

“Most of my life,” Anduin shrugged.

“Really?”

Anduin hummed in affirmation.

“And Shaw’s your…?” Darion trailed off, clearly not wanting to assume incorrectly.

Anduin frowned. “I suppose he’s my guardian. That’s the simplest way to put it. I go around helping people, and he makes sure I don’t get hurt. Bodyguard?”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, I think your bodyguard might need a bodyguard.”

A laugh bubbled up in Anduin. “It’s an equal exchange. He makes sure I stay alive, and I make sure he stays alive. Poison just happens to be outside my skillset.”

Darion threw a pitchfork-full of hay to one of the horses, who stamped with excitement in its stall. “You must be an important person then, if you have a bodyguard.”

He sure knew how to ask hard questions, but it’s nothing Anduin hadn’t heard before. “There’s safety in numbers, as they say.”

It wasn’t an answer, but Darion took it as one anyway. “I suppose so.”

There was a well pump outside the house, and Anduin made the short journey out of the stables and to the pump, bucket in tow, in hopes that his absence has them move on from the question. When he returned to the stables, his hopes were answered, and that may have been worse.

“Would you like to spar with me after this?” Darion asked as Anduin came in.

Anduin was surprised by the question, so much so that he had to place the bucket down for a moment to properly devote his brain to the question. “Beg pardon?”

“You know, sword practice,” he explained. “Every day after taking care of the horses, I do my training exercises. It’d make it more fun if I wasn’t just striking against a tree.”

“I’m not exactly trained with a sword,” Anduin said as he picked up the bucket once more, heading over to the watering trough.

That made Darion pause. “You’re…” He then turned to Anduin, eyebrows hitched in surprise. “You don’t know how to use a sword?”

“Is that surprising?”

“A little bit, considering you’ve been traveling for a long time,” Darion commented from behind Anduin. “I could show you a few things, if you want.”

“I appreciate the offer, but the Light is my weapon, and it hasn’t failed me.”

Darion was suddenly beside him, bumping shoulders with Anduin as he turned his head up to say: “Hasn’t failed you, _yet.”_ With the bucket in a tight grip, Anduin looked down to the older man, seeing a feral grin seeped with challenge across his face. It wasn’t a threat—not intentionally, at any rate—but Anduin’s heart still pounded hard against his ribs nonetheless.

Unfortunately for Darion, Anduin wasn’t one to give in that easily. “I appreciate the _concern,_ ” Anduin gave a cutting grin back. “But I’m perfectly capable of defending myself without a sword.

And, unfortunately for Anduin, Darion wasn’t one to give in that easily either.

* * *

“Your dominant hand rest underneath the quillon, while your off-hand rests underneath,” Darion explained. He was standing beside Anduin, both armed with training swords out in the grass. Anduin was still trying to figure out how exactly Darion managed to convince him to do this as he listened to Darion’s instructions. If Shaw caught wind, the man would never relent on anything ever again.

“Have your feet a forearm’s length apart, front to back,” he ordered, and Anduin complied. “Then move them both outside your shoulders on top of that.” Anduin raised an eyebrow, but widened his stance nonetheless. “Perfect.

“The most important thing about sword fighting is your stance. If your stance is bad, it is easy to be overpowered.” As Darion spoke, he emulated what he said. “Feet wide apart, but not wide enough that you’re overextended. Shoulders back, bent slightly.” Anduin mirrored him the best he could, and when the stance was replicated, Darion moved to stand in front of Anduin, keeping a fair bit of distance between them. “What do you think is the number one rule of sword fighting?”

“Hitting the other person?” Anduin suggested.

“Close, it’s making sure you don’t get hit.” Darion raised his sword, extending it towards Anduin. “A sword is both a weapon and a shield. You use it to keep yourself out of your enemy’s range, and to get the enemy in your range.”

“What’s the difference between my range and my enemy’s range?” Anduin asked. “I mean it’s relatively the same, how do I hit them and not get hit?”

The tip of Darion’s sword was suddenly mere inches away from Anduin’s throat, and Anduin tensed in surprise. “Speed,” Darion said, having made his point. He lingered for a moment before pulling back once again. “When you throw out your first cut, you don’t want to hit your opponent.” He made the same motion, slower now, letting Anduin observe the full movement. He took a step off to the side as he brought the sword around, ending the same distance from Anduin’s throat. “You want to end your first cut around here. Trying to hit your opponent on the first cut leads you open to a cut as well.”

“Makes sense,” Anduin said, still all too aware of the rounded edge pointed towards him.

Darion pulled back once more. “You try.”

With unsure movements, Anduin took a step and hazarded a swing towards Darion. It was something that he’d seen a hundred times, similar moves from Shaw, but it felt so alien to be doing it himself. The sword stopped not far from Darion’s neck, and Anduin felt shaky. “Like that?”

“You’re overextended,” Darion pointed out. “Keep your body upright and shoulders back.” Anduin repositioned himself, and immediately he felt… better. More in control of the sword. “Try again.”

Anduin had lost count of how many times he stepped and swung for Darion’s neck and stopped short when Darion finally let them move on. “Alright,” he said. “That move is both your attack and your defense.” Darion took a step and made a slow swing towards Anduin, stopping short. “When you see your opponent take their step, you want to take a counter cut. Cut at me.”

Anduin, not entirely confident in this, took a strike towards Darion. Darion readjusted his sword as Anduin swung, catching the blade with his own. There was an immediate strength present behind Darion’s sword, and Anduin was suddenly very aware as to how capable Darion undoubtedly was with a sword. “Our swords meeting, that’s called the bind,” Darion explained.

“It feels like I’m doing something wrong,” Anduin said with a nervous chuckle.

“Fix your stance,” Darion nodded. Anduin straightened, rolling his shoulders back. Some of the pressure Darion’s sword was pressing with was relieved with that. “That feel better?”

“It does. I wasn’t aware of how much sword fighting is a strength contest.”

“Just for the moment. Some people rely on brute strength in a fight, while others rely on speed.” Darion pulled back, Anduin following his lead. “Cut at me, I’ll block it.”

In a tentative movement, Anduin stepped and made a slow cut. Darion met it with his sword and said: “you’re cutting at my sword. Cut at me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Anduin said.

Darion flashed him a grin. “If you manage to hit me, I’ll get my father to let you take an oath right now.”

Anduin laughed at that. “Alright, alright,” he said. They pulled apart and Anduin tried again. Darion met it without any effort.

“Good,” he said. It sounded genuine. “You’re not half bad. Again.”

They spend a better part of an hour practicing cuts, Anduin getting the form down for both attacking and reacting, before they moved onto leveraging the sword. Bind work, Darion called it, where the swords were pressed together and either one of them was looking for an opening to strike, pushing and pulling on the other to find that gap. “Eyes on me,” Darion said, for what had to be the fourth time.

Anduin’s eyes flitted to Darion’s once more. “Right,” he said, for what must have been the fourth time. Darion had repeatedly said that watching your opponent was vitally important, and you must know where the sword was in relation to how it felt against your own. He had admitted that it wasn’t something that you could teach, it just took practice.

Anduin held Darion’s steady gaze, watching him take a step to the side and press at a different angle, sliding his blade against Anduin’s. Anduin stepped away, pulling back, and Darion pressed forward again. Anduin took an unsure glance to the bind of their swords and took a step to the side.

Before Anduin realized what was happened, Darion was at his side at in instant, dropping his sword away and grabbing Anduin’s wrists with one hand. Anduin yelped as Darion pressed an arm across his collarbone, forcing him off balance. Anduin released his grip on his own sword, grabbing Darion to steady himself, even as the man tried to push him down. “I said eyes on me!” Darion exclaimed, a smile to his voice as he continued to grapple Anduin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Anduin tried to suppress his own laughter, and failed, instead focusing on keeping his balance as he did a half hop to prevent to topple over.

“Darion,” someone’s voice rang out, pulling them both from their horseplay. Darion immediately pulled back, making sure Anduin’s steady on his feet before letting go of his wrists. “You’re not roughing up one of our guests, are you?” Alexandros asked, though it was clearly in jest.

“He is, but I asked for it,” Anduin smiled. Darion just exhaled beside Anduin.

The slightest grin reached Alexandros’ face, but it was gone after a moment. He turned his attention back to Darion. “May I have you for a moment?”

“Of course, father.” Darion immediately moved away from Anduin, crossing the yard to where Alexandros stood near the side of the house.

It was at that point when Anduin realized that Shaw had been watching them.

He wasn’t sat out on the porch when they started, but that meant little for a man like Shaw, who could walk through a forest in late autumn without disturbing a single leaf. Now, he was sitting on the small bench, his lower half covered in wood shavings as he worked on a carving. For a man who could be very quiet, he seemed to have difficulties with holding still for long. Anduin was almost surprised he lasted the night before pilfering something from the wood pile.

Shaw’s eyes met Anduin’s, and he canted his head back in a beckoning gesture. With another glance to Alexandros and Darion, noting that they were well out of earshot of Shaw, Anduin crossed towards him. “I never thought I’d see you wielding a sword,” Shaw remarked once Anduin was close enough to hear his quiet, almost fond words. “I remember when I tried to show you how to use a dagger and you started crying.”

Anduin crossed his arms. “I was seven.”

“I was well trained with daggers by that age,” Shaw murmured, looking down at his carving as he worked. Anduin frowned at that, looking down as well. It was a bird, undoubtedly, carved as if perched on the tip of a branch. Perhaps it was one of the songbirds that perched in the nearby trees. Anduin never really cared enough about birds to take notice. “So, becoming a paladin, then?”

“Light, no. Darion just wanted to show me the basics.”

“Good, I might have had to draw a line at that.”

Anduin gave a slight grin. “And here I thought you’d love the thought of me well-padded in armor and capable of defending myself. Do you have something against paladins?”

“No, not at all, I mean, what’s not to love about their air of superiority, holier-than-thou attitude, and no sense of self-preservation?” That last one sounded particularly bitter, as if it was part of a personal slight.

If Anduin didn’t know any better, he would have asked about it. Instead, he said, “remember, a paladin is the reason you’re alive right now.”

Shaw grumbled as he gave the carving a soft slice, the wood shaving curling up and off. “And now they’re holding me captive until they deem me fit to travel, like I don’t know my own limits.”

Anduin crossed his arms. “He probably saw the dark circles under your eyes and assumed you’re in a worse state than you actually are because of it.”

That got another grumble from the man, and a smile tugged at Anduin’s lips. Occasionally, Shaw’s gruff nature bordered on theatrical, and at times, Anduin wondered if that was on purpose. He liked to think so. It made the world less dull. “Getting back to the original topic, no, I don’t mind you not being a paladin. You have proven yourself to be…” he looked up to Anduin with a gaze that seemed to look right through him. “—full of surprises, shall we say.”

Anduin knew exactly what he was referring to, and he wasn’t entirely ready for a conversation on that. While Shaw never belittled Anduin’s interest in being a priest, he also didn’t seem enthused when Anduin first confided about his want. Nonetheless, he begrudged Anduin, letting them linger in towns longer than their usual allotted time to let him train in the chapels without so much as an annoyed comment. He also allowed Anduin a rarity while within churches: privacy. And because of that, Shaw was unaware of what exactly his priestly training entailed.

Lucky for Anduin, it wasn’t a conversation they would be having now. Shaw’s eyes flicked off to his right, and Anduin followed the gaze to see Darion approaching them. “Sorry about that,” Darion said to Anduin. “I think that’s a good finishing point for the day, though.”

“I hope you didn’t get in trouble for that,” Anduin said, belatedly realizing he was saying that to a grown adult, older than himself. That was a conversation for a later time.

“Oh, no.” Darion looked to Shaw. “And I hope you don’t mind me roughing up your charge.”

“Like Llane said, he deserved it.”

Anduin blinked in surprise. “Hey,” he said, feigning insult.

Shaw just shrugged.

Darion brushed his hair back behind his ears; his hair had come lose in their sparring, and it was sticking to his sweat-sheened temple. Anduin’s own golden locks were in a similar state. “Well,” he said. “Still up for helping me with the rest of my chores?”

The remainder of the chores involved tending to the small garden, sharpening the somewhat considerable number of swords they had, hauling firewood inside, and then preparing lunch. Lunch was some hearty rabbit stew and a hunk of bread, and the smell that filled the home as it cooked filled Anduin with pangs of hunger.

Alexandros came down the stairs when lunch was nearly done, dressed in plate armor. The heavy clanging sound catching everyone’s attention—Shaw was keeping Anduin in his line of sight and trying not to be obvious about it. When he reached the landing, he glanced around before landing on Darion. “I’ve been called away,” he said.

“You’re leaving before lunch?” Darion asked, disappointment leeching into his voice.

“It’s urgent, and you know how Fairbanks is; always needing me to come and solve his problems,” Alexandros said with mirth, and Darion gave him a smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes. “I’ll be back by midmorning tomorrow. Be a good host.”

“Of course, father.”

Alexandros then turned to look at Shaw and Anduin. “if you need anything, Darion can help you.”

Shaw and Anduin both gave acknowledging nods. Darion piped up, “have a safe journey, father.”

“I will,” Alexandros assured his son with a fond smile, and as he turned to leave, Anduin caught the sight of the impressive greatsword sheathed against his back, imbued with a small disk glowing with so much Light, that just seeing it brought a sense of security to him. It was a well-used sword, and it was obvious that its owner had wielded it over many years. He left the house, and Anduin could feel the disappointment bubble up more within Darion. They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Darion spoke up again. “I think the stew is ready.”

Shaw stood from the chair he had reclined in, cozying up like a cat before a roaring fire. “I’ll take my lunch outside,” he said.

Darion took up the ladle and grabbed for a bowl. “Are you sure?” he asked, eyebrow cocked.

“I want to watch the birds,” Shaw murmured, his catch-all excuse for whenever he wanted to be alone and unbothered.

Darion handed the bowl to Shaw, and he immediately made his way out. Darion and Anduin both watched him go, Darion waiting for the door to close behind him before saying, “He’s a little strange, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“He enjoys his solitude,” Anduin said as way of explanation. “I’ve long grown used to his… eccentricities.”

With Alexandros gone and Shaw sitting outside, it was just Darion and Anduin, sitting at the well-worn dinner table and eating their stew. “Your father, is he gone often?”

Darion nodded. “Lordaeron always has need of her heroes.”

“And you don’t go with him?”

Darion fixed him with a bemused look. “And leave you and Shaw?”

“You usually go with him, then?”

Darion faltered, and that meant no. “Sometimes,” he said, “when it’s not too dangerous.”

Anduin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“My father is a bit… protective,” he said with a sigh. Anduin looked down to his stew and thought about that, about how he was called over after Alexandros saw them being rough. Perhaps it wasn’t him being rough with Anduin was the issue, but the fact that Darion was being rough at all. Surely that couldn’t have been it, right?

“So, you just… stay here, tend to the home, and help any travelers that pass through?” Anduin asked.

“For the most part, yes.”

Now, Anduin wasn’t entirely fond of the life of vagabondry, but the thought of staying in a home, being more or less forbidden to leave, well, that seemed like a worse fate. “Do you go anywhere without your father?”

“I mean, I’ll head into town for supplies when he’s gone.”

Anduin blinked in surprise. “That’s it?”

Darion put down his spoon into his bowl and straightened up, looking at Anduin with growing annoyance. “What?”

“When’s the last time you went out on your own, without your father’s permission beforehand?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Darion quickly snapped.

A grin was growing across Anduin’s face. “That just means we both should take advantage of this.” Darion said nothing in response to that, but he gave Anduin a questioning look, prompting him to continue. “What’s something you’ve wanted to do for a while now, but your father always said no to?”

Darion didn’t seem entirely trusting, but he furrowed his brow towards his stew, twirling his spoon into the broth as he thought. “There’s a church, not far from here. Some people in town say it was abandoned, but no one seems to know why. Just… all the priests were up and gone.”

Anduin brightened. “What if we were to go and see if we can find out why?”

“That’d be—”

“Dangerous?” Anduin interrupted. “And here I thought you were a paladin capable of holding his own in a fight.”

The goad brought a flash of challenge to Darion’s eyes, clearly embedding the need to prove Anduin that he was. Despite this, something in Darion fought it down. “And what of Shaw?” Darion asked.

“What about him? He’s dealt with his fair share of healing-induced aftereffects. If you were to spar him right now, I’d guarantee that you’d end up on your backside,” Anduin grinned. “He’s not going to die if we’re gone for a few hours.”

“And he’s not going to have any problems with you running around without him?”

Anduin leaned over his bowl. “What makes you think we’re telling him?”

Something else flashed in Darion’s eyes, then. Fear, maybe, but not quite. Worry? Anduin pressed on, “come on, live a little. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We both die.”

“And what’s the most _realistic_ worst outcome?”

“We get injured and then caught.”

“I’m a priest that’s more than capable of tending to injuries, and your father said he wouldn’t be back until midmorning,” Anduin pointed out. “We just need to be back before dawn and he and Shaw both would be none the wiser.” Darion didn’t seem entirely convinced. With a sigh, he looked away from Anduin and off to the distance. “When’s the last time you went out and… I don’t know, tried your sword on something that wasn’t a tree?”

Darion sat silent for a moment, still staring off. Anduin could almost see the internal argument he was having within. Finally, his eyes met Anduin’s again. “Let me think about it,” he said.

After lunch, Anduin left Darion alone, guessing that things would end up more in his favor if he just let Darion think things out himself. He sat outside with Shaw, soaking up the warmth of the late spring afternoon. They sat in quiet for a while, watching the birds in the boughs of the trees, before Anduin realized that Shaw was simply dozing. “Didn’t think you were that old that you need a nap,” Anduin teased.

Shaw grunted, shifting in his seat. “Migraine,” he muttered under his breath. Not surprising; that was a common symptom of having poison purged from the body, not unlike a hangover.

“You could spend the time you’re given to rest and go rest, you know.”

Shaw opened his eyes a fraction, bright green focused on Anduin. “If you talked less, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Anduin rolled his eyes. “Go inside and lie down, Shaw. I’m not going to perish in a surprise attack against some home in the middle of nowhere.” Shaw grunted again, and Anduin pressed on, “your stubbornness is going to delay us further.”

With that, Shaw sighed. “Fine.” He stood from the bench and stretched, the sounds of joints popping audible enough for Anduin to hear. “If something happens, scream.”

Anduin smiled. “Will do.”

* * *

Shaw was soundly asleep in the guest room, and Anduin carefully crept from the room after donning his cloak, watching Shaw like a hawk to make sure he didn’t stir. Anduin managed all the way out the door and closed it behind him without so much as a shift in Shaw’s position, and Anduin let out a quiet sigh of relief. He headed down the hall and to the stairs, finding Darion waiting for him on the landing. There was a shield on his back and a sword hanging on his waist, and he was dressed in half-plate. There was worry across his face, but there was also excitement.

“I dare say you’re more excited than I am,” Darion commented.

Anduin descended the stairs, raising his chin up to Darion with a grin once he reached the landing. “I’ll admit, this is for me too.”

The sun had fallen behind the horizon, the dusk turning quickly into the night. Darion had a lantern against his waist, lighting the path for them as they walked. As they got farther and farther away from the home, Anduin’s heart beat faster, the act of doing something inherently forbidden thrilling him. He looked to his traveling partner and saw Darion’s nervous expression. He couldn’t have Darion getting seconds thoughts now. “So, how does someone become a paladin with an over-protective father?” Anduin asked, hoping to take Darion’s thoughts off his worries.

“Everyone in my family is a paladin. My father is, my brother is, and my mother was,” Darion shrugged. “My brother and I convinced our father to take us with him when he went to help against the Scourge, and I studied the Light down with all the paladins down there.”

“You have a brother?” Anduin asked.

“Yes, Renault; he’s my older brother.” Anduin saw both fondness and pain flick across Darion’s face. “He stayed south with the Scarlet Crusade.”

The name was familiar. They were a holy order stationed out in the Redridge mountains, preventing further expansion of the Scourge and later, the Forsaken. They had fractured from some of the other orders in the area, taking a more… extreme approach than the others. “Your mother didn’t go with?”

“She died bearing me,” Darion said simply.

Anduin felt a pang of empathy. “My mother died when I was very young too. Not during childbirth, but I never knew her.” Anduin reached to his chest, finding the thin chain underneath his shirt and pulling It out, showing the two rings on the chain. “These are all I have left of her.”

Darion glanced over with his own look of empathy. “My brother has my mother’s, I believe.”

Anduin tucked the chain back underneath his shirt, feeling the cool rings settle against his heart again. They fell into a silence with the conversation effectively killed. They continued down the dark path, a crisp wind passing through and shaking the leaves in the trees, and Anduin pulled his cloak closer in an effort to hold onto his warmth. An owl’s call rang out through the air, audible over the slight clanking noises of Darion’s armor.

“What about you?” Darion asked. “Past your mother, what’s your family like?”

Anduin gave a heavy sigh. He’s had conversations like this before, it just required being careful. “I was an only child, and my father was a warrior.” He paused, trying to figure out how to continue. “I’m…” with another sigh, he tried again. “I was born in Stormwind.”

“Oh, Light, I’m sorry,” Darion said. “I didn’t… I didn’t even think of that.”

“It’s all right,” Anduin said, noting how weary he sounded. He tried again. “It’s all right.”

“Here I am, bringing up the Third War—”

“It’s all right,” Anduin reiterated. “I’m used to it.”

Silence bloomed again as Darion thought on that. “So, why are you and Shaw traveling then?”

“I mean, we can hardly go home,” Anduin said.

“Well, yes, but it’s been nearly fifteen years. Why haven’t you… settled down?”

“It’s not that simple, unfortunately. I’d rather not get into it, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Alright,” Darion said, and mercifully, it was left at that.

Churches were always a haven for the needy and a beacon of the Light, but Anduin wouldn’t lie, when they crested the hill and saw the church, he was filled with a chilling fear. It was dark and decrepit; the light the two moons illuminated the holy building in making it seem almost sinister in its state of disrepair. “Strange,” Darion murmured.

“What’s wrong?”

Darion pointed towards the entrance of the church’s crypt. “Everything is overgrown, except for the path to the crypt.” True enough, the grass was long and untended, with unruly weeds taking over. Despite that, there was a clear worn trail from the crypt entrance to the road. Even the path into the chapel was taken over my plant life.

“Shaw said that some people collected the buried bodies of war heroes in Stormwind, to make sure they weren’t raised during the Third War. Could they have… relocated the bodies to a different church?”

“There’s no necromancy this far north,” Darion said.

“Perhaps not, but if the church were abandoned, wouldn’t they move those interred here to somewhere else?”

Darion frowned. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He dropped the cover on the hooded lantern, dimming the light. “C’mon.” He took the lead, and Anduin followed close on his heels, sending a quick prayer to the Light for its blessing.

It was only now that Anduin realized how entirely, incredibly, unstealthy someone in plate was. No wonder Shaw didn’t like the idea of Anduin becoming a paladin. Anduin hadn’t exactly taken to subterfuge, but he had picked up a thing or two about stealth out of necessity, and for all of Shaw’s teasing, Anduin _did_ learn how to wield a dagger. He had a well-balanced dagger stowed away in his boot, a gift for Anduin’s thirteenth birthday. Now, as Darion pulled his shield from his back, Anduin was so very aware of how loud the _clang clang clang_ of his armor was.

Darion was on the edge of the overgrown yard, heading towards the crypt, when Anduin stopped him. “We should check the chapel first.” Darion looked unsure, but nodded nonetheless, changing course to the church.

The smell of death and decay clung to the stonework and suffocated the air inside the building. Half decayed corpses laid in dried puddles of blood, stained glass from shattered windows littering the floor and softly cracking underfoot. Anduin took a deep breath, and immediately regret it as the rot filled his lungs. “Light above,” Anduin muttered.

Darion, full of courage, approached one of the bodies. He seemed entirely unbothered by the corpses, and Anduin realized that, of course he was, it was probably nothing new to a man that spent years fighting the Scourge. After all, what was a rotted body lying still to a rotted body running towards you with murderous intent? “A person killed them,” Darion said, and Anduin joined where he was kneeling with a reluctance. Darion pointed a finger, clad in a metal gauntlet, towards a large slash mark through the body and said, “That’s a blade wound, perhaps from a short sword. I bet the rest have similar wounds.”

Anduin’s stomach turned with more than just the scene before him. He stood silent for a moment, trying to identify what had him so on edge besides the obvious. “Do you… feel the Light here?”

“What?” Darion asked, looking up at Anduin.

“I’ve been to a lot of churches on my journey, and they’ve always felt as if the Light was within their walls, like a presence. It’s always been there, regardless of the church, but this just feels… empty.”

“Perhaps its abandonment led to the Light abandoning it as well,” Darion offhandedly suggested. “I’ve seen it before.”

“Can you feel the Light?” Anduin asked, and Darion didn’t respond. It wasn’t the kind of not responding that came with thought, when the other person was trying to come to an answer or was thinking ahead to another topic entirely, it was the kind of not responding that came with the person knowing exactly what the answer was, and not wanting to say it. “Darion?” Anduin pressed.

“I don’t,” he answered at last, the words heavier than perhaps they should have been as he stared at the corpse.

“What’s wrong?”

Darion was as still as the grave, and silent as one too, and Anduin nearly thought that something had gotten ahold of the man before he spoke again. “I suppose I’ll be honest and say that—” he sighed at length. “My sense of the Light isn’t the greatest.”

Anduin raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

From where Anduin stood, he can see the frown cross Darion’s face. “For the son of a paladin hero, yes, that’s it.”

Anduin winced, let the silence fester for a moment, and then stuck his hand out to Darion to help him up. “Come on, we still have the crypt to check.”

Darion hesitated, looking to Anduin’s hand for a moment, as if he were pondering its very nature, before taking it in his own hand. Anduin hauled Darion to his feet, the sound of metal scraping against metal enunciating the action, and gave him a sympathetic look. “Lucky for you, I’m here, and I’m fairly certain that something has fouled the hallowed ground here.”

Darion made an obvious glance towards the corpses and then back to Anduin. “You don’t say.” The comment had Anduin rolling his eyes, but before he could respond, Darion continued, “all the more reason to check the crypt, then.”

They pushed out of the chapel and back into the cool night, the fresh air a welcome reprieve from the stench of decay that permeated the building. Darion cut across the overgrown lawn towards the crypt, not wasting any time, and Anduin fell in step close behind. “Stay behind me,” Darion ordered in a quiet voice. Anduin hardly needed to be told to keep behind the man with a sword and shield, but he just hummed in acknowledgement.

One of the crypt’s doors was propped open with a large stone, soft candlelight giving the descending stairs a dim illumination. Darion double checked their own lantern, making sure it was hooded, before heading down into the unknown. Anduin, ears open and in the middle of a great debate with himself if he should pull out his boot knife now or later, followed him with care; some of the stone steps had seen better days.

An oppressive aura hit Anduin as they descended the third set of stairs down, thick in the humid air of the underground. It made a sickening feeling settle in his stomach, one of equal parts dread and nausea, a telltale sign of the taint of necromancy. “Do you feel that, at least?” he asked Darion, voice a whisper.

“I grew up fighting in the Third War,” Darion murmured back, “of course I do.”

The crypt split off in two directions, left and right, candles on either side lit, giving no hint as to where someone would be—if someone was in the crypt at all. Darion glanced between either direction before taking to the right. Anduin stayed close behind, his hands warming in preparation. If he needed it, the Light would come, even in a place such as this, where he had to strain to push past the dense fog of necromancy to do so. He had no doubts about that. He glanced to the walls, where coffins rested in carved nooks, and noted that many had been opened and their contents removed. At a glance, it just looked like grave robbers had plundered what they could, but Anduin couldn’t think of many grave robbers that would take the corpse as well. _There’s no necromancy this far north,_ he thought to himself with an internal scoff. There was necromancy everywhere, one just had to look.

Anduin was stopped by Darion halting abruptly in front of him, pulling him from his thoughts so he could react quickly enough to prevent from bumping into him. Even though the man was not here, Anduin could hear Shaw’s voice ring clearly in his head, chastising him for a wandering mind in a dangerous situation. Well, it wasn’t dangerous yet, per se, was it?

Footsteps from behind them, and Anduin cursed under his breath, turning in time to see a woman in robes rush out from around the other corner. “Rats!” she shrieked, surprising Anduin and Darion both. Anduin looked to Darion, seeing two more robed people past him and deeper within. One of them summoned a ghastly energy within her hands, while the other drew a blade. Anduin glanced back to the woman that first spotted them, and while gaunt and sickly looking, she still looked quite capable of putting up a fight, and Anduin was filled with a sudden, desperate feeling.

He was going to die here. Anduin Llane Wrynn, heir to the damned throne of Stormwind, to die in a crypt in the middle of Lordaeron’s countryside. Light, Anduin might have killed him and Darion both with this. He was the reason they were out here; they went out against Darion’s best judgement. Guilt and despair mingled in his gut with the underlining nausea from the necromantic magic in the air. It was his fault, and Anduin was nothing but dishonest with him.

“Darion,” Anduin said, voice pitched low for only his ears. He bit his bottom lip before looking to Darion, who was glancing his way. “I’m sorry.”

Darion only flashed him a wry, self-assured smile in response.

The man with the blade charged Darion, forcing his attention back to matters at hand. Anduin turned his own attention back to the woman in front of him as he felt his hands warm with the Light. _Keep us safe,_ he pleaded, _and be my weapon._

A shock of Light, burning orange in color, emanated from the woman. She winched at the pain, but was undeterred as she lunged for Anduin. He pulled the knife from his boot and held it close, a bright light crackling in his hand as he waited for her to come closer. Once she was in arm’s length, Anduin let the Light within him go, striking at the woman with a sudden brightness as he slashed. He connected with something, but that meant little to the woman as she grabbed at Anduin and forced him to the ground. She clawed at Anduin’s neck, the near feral look in her eye terrifying Anduin, and he grit his teeth and tried to shoulder her off.

He managed to flip their positions—Anduin was never the strongest, but neither was this woman—and jammed his dagger into her chest. She gasped, and Anduin sunk it to the hilt, trying to ignore the sickening feeling in his stomach. Anduin looked up, raising a hand and calling upon the light in time to shield Darion from the necrotic bolt that was thrown his way, dissipating harmlessly against the shield.

The other woman looked to Anduin, and with a snarl, she vanished into the shadows. Anduin was immediately wary, knowing that both those that studied subtlety and arcane were capable of such things, but before he could piece out where exactly she could have vanished to, he was being seized by his collar, twisted in someone’s grasp, and he found himself face to face with the woman that had just disappeared. “Little _pest,”_ she hissed, channeling her own magic. Anduin struggled to remember anything useful to defend himself, paralyzed by the fear of dying, and could only watched as the dark magic at her fingertips glowed bright with a blue-green color.

The woman was just about to cast off something dark before being smacked square in the face by something, the magic dissipating in an instant as it bounced off the bridge of her nose. She loosened her grip on Anduin in an instant, and Anduin fell back with surprise. “On your feet!” Darion’s voice rang clear as a bell behind Anduin, and Anduin did just that, avoiding stepping on the body of the first woman with as much care he could afford, given the circumstances.

The other woman, the one that was still alive and mostly well, clutched at her nose with one hand, the hand that had just held Anduin’s collar still balled into a fist, something dangling from it. Anduin didn’t stop to look and see what, more preoccupied with the fact that she was still a looming threat. She scowled at Anduin, and just as Anduin began to call upon the Light once again, she disappeared once again.

Ready to help, Anduin turned to Darion, finding him running his sword through the man. He pulled it out, an audible sound of steel sliding against flesh and bone accompanying the movement, and with a pained cry, the man collapsed to the ground. Anduin glanced to Darion, watching his hard expression. Darion took a deep breath before turning to Anduin. There was a gouge across his shoulder, blood dripping from it and staining his armor. “You’re hurt,” Anduin said.

Darion shook his head. “I’ll be fine. How are you?”

Out of nervous habit, Anduin put his hand to his chest. “I’m f—” he stopped, felt his chest a little more intently, and his eyes widened. “My mother’s rings, they’re gone. I—”

“That woman must have them,” Darion said. “C’mon, she couldn’t have gotten far.” He pushed past Anduin, taking the lead, and Anduin followed close behind as they delved deeper into the crypt. They head past the stairs leading out, a brief moment of worry rising in Anduin—what if she left and was currently running off? —but each step Darion took was filled with such a confident conviction that Anduin felt in his heart that Darion must know where she was. “Come on out, necromancer,” he called out into the dark, quiet crypt, stopping as they reached another room. “I can sense the taint upon your soul, there’s no used hiding.”

The woman suddenly appeared before them, both hands glowing with an immense power as she channeled a spell. “This place will—”

Whatever else she was to say was interrupted by Darion’s shield smashing into her face yet again. Seeing it happen from this perspective made the action seem almost comical, rather than the quick-thinking and heroic it was when Anduin was on the ground, about to be blasted with necrotic energies. “Save your breath,” Darion commanded as he caught his shield. “You don’t have much left to draw.”

Darion crossed the room with a determination, and the woman tried desperately to get away. Letting his anger burn inside him, Anduin called upon the Light once again, summoning chains that illuminated with holy magic to shackle her in place. Anduin followed Darion, getting a good look at the woman. If her nose wasn’t broken the first time Darion threw his shield at her, it was now, dripping blood as it sat crooked on her face. Anduin didn’t envy her; comical or not, it looked like it hurt.

“I tire of upstarts like you,” Darion told her, voice hushed. With her restrained, Darion put his shield against his back once again. “You necromancers ruin everything you touch.”

The woman jerked against her bonds, curling herself up towards Darion. “You don’t know who you—”

Darion ran her through with his sword, and the rest of her words melted into a bloody, unintelligible choking sound. “I said be quiet.”

Her body went limp, and Anduin let her fall to the ground, the sound of her sliding from Darion’s blade utterly sickening. Anduin watched Darion crouch down before her, give a quick glance over, before swiping something and standing again. He turned to Anduin and held out his hand, saying, “I believe these are yours.”

The relief that flooded Anduin at the sight of those two rings was close to overwhelming. “Thank you so much,” he said as he took them back. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost them.”

Darion gave him a nod in acknowledgement. “Of course.”

For the meantime, Anduin tucked the rings and its chain back into a belt pouch. He’d check to see if the chain was broken when he was not suffocating in a crypt tainted by necromancy. “Let me get a look of that wound outside.”

Once they were free of the crypt, Darion leaned against the old fence surrounding the church, the wood creaking in complaint but not yet giving in to the new weight. Anduin was glad he remembered, as the wound had already begun to necrotize, leaving an ugly sight of greying skin that was soon to be rotting flesh. When he called upon the Light this time, it wasn’t a soft white light or a brilliant golden one, rather a light that shown with all the colors of the rainbow. “I may not be able to clear poisons, but I can clear magical afflictions,” he said in a soft, conversational voice.

“Good, otherwise the jig may have been up,” Darion replied. There was a quiet sigh of relief from him as the wound began to close, returning to its healthy shade of pink.

“You know, we still don’t know why there were necromancers here,” Anduin pointed out as he felt a familiar exhaustion take hold of him.

“They were necromancers. That was a crypt. They go hand in hand, the two of them.”

“Well, yes,” Anduin said, ignoring the flippancy. “But presumably they killed the priests here. One rarely hears about such a bold attack like that anymore.”

Darion sighed. “You’re right. I’ll have to inform my father; I want to hope it’s nothing more than just that, but it only takes a few necromancers to start the destruction of a kingdom.” He paused, looking to Anduin. “Sorry.”

“I think you saying sorry is worse than bringing it up at all,” Anduin said.

“Sorry,” Darion said without thinking. He winced, and Anduin felt laughter bubbling up within him at that. Darion started laughing too, and then they were both snickering against the fence like school children. “Thank you, though.”

Anduin blinked. “For what?”

Darion gestured and said: “For this.” He pushed off the fence post and started walking back up the road. Anduin followed beside him. “Since my father and I came back home after the Northrend campaign, I haven’t really had any real chances to test my mettle once again. And it was… I had fun.” They bump shoulders again, the strange gesture of affection becoming familiar to Anduin. “I’m glad you convinced me to come out here.”

“I’m always for a little rebellion,” Anduin said. “Though, I will point out, you _did_ get hurt.”

“Beats striking against a tree,” Darion shrugged. “Besides, if you hadn’t mentioned it, then I don’t know when someone would have found out about those necromancers.”

“What will you do now?” Anduin asked.

“I’ll tell my father of it when he gets back, we’ll go and investigate it, burn the bodies, and he’ll probably go to speak with some of the Silver Hand in the area, see if they’ve seen anything like it.”

“So, you’re going to tell your father that you went out in the middle of the night to attack some necromancers?”

Darion didn’t seem to think of that. “I…” he trailed off.

“I’m just saying, he’d find out with something like that.” Anduin knew from experience; there was little he could possibly get away with without Shaw finding out.

“Well, I can’t just _not_ mention it,” Darion said.

Anduin thought for a moment. “Maybe we could—" The house had come into view, and the partly shuttered windows showed a light within. Anduin didn’t remember those lights, and he asked, “did you leave candles burning?”

Darion looked to his home. “Not that many,” he said.

Shaw was up, then. Anduin groaned. “Shaw’s going to kill me for leaving without saying anything.”

“We’ll say that we just went on a walk,” Darion said.

“You’re wearing armor.”

“I always wear armor when I leave the house.”

It was said in such a way that Anduin couldn’t tell if that was serious or not, and he decided he didn’t want to press that. Instead, Anduin prepared himself to get the glaring of a lifetime and a metaphorical—and perhaps literal—ear dragging out to somewhere Darion wouldn’t hear whatever Shaw would curse him out with.

What he wasn’t prepared for was Darion opening the front door and immediately gasping out, “Father!”

“Darion!” Alexandros spun on his heel from where he had been pacing in the living room, a look of equal parts relief and frustration on his face as he bounded across the room and tackled Darion into a hug. Darion hugged back, getting rocked in his father’s grasp. He seemed smaller in Alexandros’ arms, and Anduin very quietly moved to give them space. “Light above, you worried me _sick,_ Darion!” he said. “Where were you two?”

“I— we, we went to that old church—” Darion started.

“Why?” Alexandros pressed. “It’s late and there’s no one at that chapel anymore.” There was an underlying anger in his words, but it didn’t seem like he was angry with Darion. Furthermore, everything else he said was drenched with worry. “Light, Darion, you could’ve been hurt!”

“I—” Darion began to stammer out.

“I asked him to,” Shaw’s firm voice cut through the growing chaos, and everyone looked over to see him standing at the top of the stairs.

“Pardon?” Alexandros asked.

Shaw gave a nod towards Anduin. “Llane wants to stop at every church we pass, and with my injury, we’ve been waylaid far longer than our schedule permitted. I asked Darion to take him while I recovered, considering he is well-practiced with a sword. I had no doubt that your son would be capable in protecting Llane, and Llane is not without his own defenses.”

Alexandros frowned and turned back to Darion. “Is this true, Darion?”

“I…” Darion paused, and Anduin could see the look Shaw was burning into Darion. He was giving Darion an out to avoid getting punished. “Yes, it is,” he said with a sigh.

“You knew that the church was abandoned,” Alexandros chided.

“I wouldn’t listen,” Anduin butt in before Alexandros could continue, grabbing his attention. “I didn’t think that a church could be abandoned, to be honest. All the places I’ve been to have been filled with life and hope and the Light, and to think that one of them could just be abandoned seemed… ridiculous.” It wasn’t true, but Anduin had long since learned that he could use the idea of naivety to his advantage. “But that’s not important, what _is_ important that there were necromancers there.”

Both Alexandros and Shaw seemed to snap to attention at that. “What?” Alexandros asked.

Darion jumped in again. “It’s true,” he said. “The priests that tended to the chapel were murdered, and we found three necromancers in the crypt.”

“And you’re certain of this?” Alexandros asked.

“I know what I felt,” Darion said. “I was beside you during the Third war, I know what the necrotic taint feels like. Please, trust me.”

Alexandros sighed, putting a hand on Darion’s shoulder. “I do, my son. And we’ll deal with this in the morning.” He looked to Anduin. “Off to bed, the both of you. You two have gotten into enough trouble tonight as is.”

Anduin bowed his head, conceding that. He headed back up the stairs, Darion lingering to speak to his father in hushed tones. As he passed, he gave Shaw a questioning look, and Shaw’s neutral look dipped into something softer before he turned to follow Anduin into the guest room.

“You knew,” Anduin stated once Shaw had the door closed behind him.

“Of course I did,” Shaw said with a scoff, almost insulted. “The window was open during lunch.”

Anduin felt incredibly foolish with that. That was what he got for trying to sneak something past a spy. “Wait,” he said, turning to Shaw. “Why didn’t you stop us?”

Shaw rubbed his face and sighed. “I thought it would be good for you to spend time with someone closer to your age.” His bottle green eyes flicked to Anduin’s. “Plus, I didn’t think you two would actually find anything in that church.”

Anduin felt a laugh bubble up in him from that. “You and me both.”

* * *

By the time the sky was painted in the colors of the early morning, Anduin’s things were all packed up. He stood out in the hallway, looking at the portrait that hung in the hallway. It depicted Alexandros in the center, dressed in the tabard of Lordaeron. posing with the Ashbringer in front of him, not a gray hair in sight.

To his right was another man, someone Anduin didn’t recognize. His hair was lighter, strawberry blond in color, but just as long as Alexandros’. He had a well grown goatee, reminding Anduin of the one Darion had now, and it was paired with a hard gaze that seemed to burn into one’s soul. His tabard had the insignia of the Scarlet Crusade, holding out a broadsword in front of him in a similar fashion.

To Alexandros’ left was a younger Darion, eyes bright as he held his own sword in front of him. Unlike the other two, he wore no tabard, rather, he seemed to be drowning in half plate, not yet fully bulked and grown into it. 

Shaw joined him now, his own bag tossed against his shoulder. He took one glance to the portrait before he scoffed distastefully. “Paladins,” he muttered under his breath.

Anduin rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous enough to hang up a giant portrait of myself.”

“Shush,” Anduin said, and they walked down the hall and down the stairs.

They were greeted with the Mograines downstairs, both dressed in armor as they were gathered around the table. Darion’s eyes were just as bright as they were in the portrait when he looked up at them. “Good morning,” Alexandros greeted as he glanced up from the book in his hands, lined in gold. He kept a level gaze on Shaw. “Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?”

Shaw gave him a tight grin he probably thought came off as polite. “I am more than certain, thank you.”

“Very well, then,” Alexandros said, turning his attention back to his book. “Could you see them off for me, Darion?”

“Of course, father,” Darion nodded before looking back to Anduin. He headed to the back door, and Anduin went to follow.

“I’ll meet you out front,” Shaw said.

Knowing that Shaw let him run off unsupervised to be with someone closer to his age, Anduin questioned that choice. Did he want them to get a last few moments together, or did he simply not want to get caught up in unnecessary conversation? Knowing the man, it was probably both. “You left your bird on the windowsill,” Darion called to Shaw.

“Consider it a thank you gift,” Shaw said without missing a beat, already out the front door.

Once again, Darion murmured to Anduin, “he’s strange.”

“Yes, he is,” Anduin agreed.

The walk out to the stable was silent besides that, and Anduin doesn’t like that. He ached for something to say. “You didn’t get in trouble, did you?” he asked.

Darion shoved open the wide stable doors. “No, not because of Shaw, but that was a thin ice situation.” Darion began the process of saddling and harnessing Anduin’s horse as Anduin stood by. “Why did he do that, anyway?”

“He overheard,” Anduin said.

Darion hummed curiously at that. “Well, that was kind of him.”

Anduin watched Darion as he saddled the horse. Despite how bulky his plate seemed to be, he seemed to move in it with ease, like it was a second skin that fit him well. It was a stark difference from the young man in the hallway portrait. Despite him being shorter than Anduin, there was an undeniable amount of strength in him that Anduin lacked, one could see that even buried under all that armor.

Darion half-turned, eyes glancing towards Anduin. With that, Anduin realized that he had been staring. “So,” he said, “what do you think is going on with the necromancers?”

Darion gave a shrug. “It’s probably just some upstarts. It happens every so often; some people from Dalaran get bold or scorned by their teachers or whatever. The Silver Hand takes care of them every time.”

“Nothing exciting, then?”

Darion flashed a grin. “We already had our excitement.”

Anduin smiled back. “I suppose we did.”

Darion had finished saddling the horse and lead it out of the stall. “It’ll be good. To get out again and to be doing something to help.” He handed Anduin the reins to the horse.

“That’s good,” Anduin said as he took them. The lingered for a moment, Anduin having run out of things to say, but not wanting to leave quite yet.

Darion hesitated for only a moment longer before giving a polite nod and heading out the stables. “Come on, let’s get you on your way.”

There was a seed of regret that embedded itself inside Anduin stomach as he left. They did have their excitement, and they both said they had fun, but now Anduin was to leave the closest thing he had to a friend behind. It was… disappointing.

As promised, Shaw was waiting out in front, sharp eyes on them as soon as they rounded the corner. “Shaw,” Darion greeted, “thank you, for… earlier.”

Shaw gave him a nod. “Thank you for making sure Llane came out of it in one piece.”

“I’m not defenseless,” Anduin grumbled.

“I’m aware,” Shaw said levelly. “We have a fair way to Southshore, we should get going.”

Anduin nodded before turning to Darion. “Don’t be afraid to live a little.”

Darion crossed his arms and smirked. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

And with that, Anduin and Shaw were off once again.

**Author's Note:**

> I will make you all ship mogrynn if I have to drag you guys by your ankles one by one (๑>ᴗ<๑)


End file.
